


The Forsaken Marsh Affair

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Spies and the supernatural [9]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: [Halloween ficlit] A set-up and a haunted swamp house set the stage for yet another test of Napoleon's loyalty to Illya.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo
Series: Spies and the supernatural [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/563159
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Forsaken Marsh Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: And here is my annual MFU Halloween ficlit! As always, this fic is part of my main timeline, and so, this is not the first time in my ‘verse that Napoleon and Illya have come across supernatural events and entities—hence their acceptance of this (in previous fics, they hadn’t accepted it so easily).

Napoleon had to admit, there was a shadowy, oppressive aura around the old marsh house. Though the moonlight shown down upon it, it barely seemed illuminated. A chill fall wind slammed several shutters back and forth, creating a sound that seemed to echo around the marsh.

Slowly, he raised his communicator again.

“Illya. Illya, it’s me—can you hear me?”

No reply. There hadn’t been any reply at all since his disappearance—something that had infuriated Napoleon. There had been a rash of disappearances in the marsh as of late—normally, such a thing wasn’t part of U.N.C.L.E.’s duty, but the federal investigators on the case had sought help from them…

**********

_Napoleon had an intense distrust of federal agents, as several of the ones he had crossed paths with had automatically presumed Illya to be suspicious or expendable (or, sometimes both) on account of his nationality—and so, when Illya had been assigned to work with two federal agents and a local private detective to investigate the marsh disappearances, Napoleon had insisted on going along._

_Napoleon had every intention of staying by Illya’s side throughout the whole thing, but in the spirit of “inter-agency cooperation” (something that Napoleon didn’t buy for a second), one of the agents suggested that they split up, with one U.N.C.L.E. agent going with one of the federal agents._

_Napoleon had fought back against this, but the agent was insistent—and Napoleon then insisted that the private detective go with Illya’s group inside the house while Napoleon and the other federal agent had searched the surrounding marsh._

_“You’re sure a suspicious one,” the federal agent had said._

_“I’ve had enough of your lot attempting to grill my partner or try to convince me to hand him over to you,” Napoleon had shot back._

_“No one is grilling anybody,” the agent had assured him. “We just want to ask him a few questions, that’s all—we’re focused on finding the missing victims, too, but we want to get this formality out of the way to make sure that he checks out.”_

_“Then it_ was _a set-up, having G-Men and U.N.C.L.E. getting involved in a local matter,” Napoleon had retorted._

_“Careful, Solo,” the man had warned, with a frown. “You wouldn’t want word getting out that you might be a traitor. There are lines drawn in the sand already—a man in your position has to make it clear which side he’s on.”_

_“It is my duty as an agent of U.N.C.L.E. to be loyal to my organization and my partner first and foremost,” Napoleon had returned, not willing to hear any more of this. “We believe in global unity—not this ‘us versus them’ garbage! It’s your kind of attitude that’s going to make all of this worse—”_

_The agent’s communicator had gone off, and the man had answered it._

_“This house is cursed!” the other agent had howled. “The cellar’s full of glowing bones and the house is full of ghosts! The PI and I are going to split!”_

_“Where’s my partner!?” Napoleon had demanded._

_“He’s on his own! He fell down into the cellar! He…” The agent had trailed off, suddenly unleashing a blood-curdling cry. “It’s them!”_

_He had screamed again, and Napoleon had been able to hear someone else scream—the local detective, no doubt._

_And to Napoleon’s surprise, the immediate response of the agent with him was to turn tail and run._

_“Where are you going!?” he had asked._

_“You heard the man—it’s cursed!”_

_“That’s your partner in there, as well as mine!” Napoleon had pointed out._

_“So!? It’s every man for himself in a situation like this—YAAAAAGH!”_

_Napoleon had stared as glowing skeletons emerged from the marsh, dripping in the muck, had reached out and grabbed the cowardly agent, dragging him into the mire. Napoleon had tried to fire tranquilizers at them, but, of course, as with the other supernatural threats that he had seen, it had done nothing._

_With a curse under his breath, Napoleon had then run over to the edge of the bog, reaching in a hand to try to grab the agent and pull him out, and a shout of alarm left him as he pulled up a glowing skeleton—still wearing the agent’s clothes._

_The skeleton leered at him, still moving, and Napoleon had to let him drop back into the marsh. He wasn’t going to question how or why that had happened—he’d since learned that some things defied any explanation, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything about it._

_And the immediate thing he had to do was find his partner._

**********

The fact that there was no response from Illya over the channel was more than enough cause for concern. Between the skeletons outside and whatever it was that the others had seen inside, there was no telling what had befallen Illya, but Napoleon wasn’t about to let that—or the formidable-looking house—stop him from trying to find him.

The first thing Napoleon noticed upon crossing the threshold was the private investigator, huddled on the floor, shaking, with his head in his hands.

“What happened!?” Napoleon asked.

“That fed was prodding that other guy about some stuff—Russia, I guess? The other guy got frustrated, but then, before he could say anything, the floor gave way, and the Russian fell right into the cellar—landed on a pile of glowing bones. The fed grabbed me and tried to run—I thought it was scummy to leave the other guy down there, but he insisted that we go… And then _they_ showed up!”

“…The ghosts?” Napoleon asked, recalling the panicked transmission.

The detective nodded.

“Where’s the agent?” Napoleon asked.

“The ghosts pulled him through the floor—the skeletons were grabbing at him. I could hear the screams…”

Napoleon shut his eyes, recalling the fate of the other agent—no doubt, this one had also joined the skeletons’ ranks instantly. But… where did that leave Illya, who had fallen, rather than get dragged…?

“…Do you know where my partner is?” Napoleon asked.

“I’m sorry—no,” the detective said. “I wanted to look for him, but that other guy insisted we go before he got dragged, and I just… My legs just quit…” He trailed off as Napoleon headed deeper into the house. “Where are you going!?”

“To find my partner!” Napoleon shot back. “Those feds may have been ready to leave the rest of us for dead, but that’s not how I work!”

The detective didn’t say anything; he just stared, stunned.

Napoleon found the hole in the kitchen that Illya had fallen into.

“Illya!” he called. “Illya!”

Leaning over the hole to take a look, Napoleon jumped back with a yelp, seeing the glowing skeletons leering up at him. And, just at the edge of his field of vision, he could see Illya’s legs.

His heart in his throat, Napoleon lowered himself down into the hole, breathing a sigh of relief to see that Illya was still flesh-and-blood, albeit knocked out—there was a visible bruise on his head.

Ignoring the leering skeletons, Napoleon now knelt by Illya’s side.

“Hey, Tovarisch,” he said, softly, gently supporting his upper body in his arms after making sure his vitals were okay.

Illya opened his eyes, wincing, but he managed a wan smile.

“I knew you’d make it,” he said. “I told them.”

“Well, that agent won’t know, but the detective will…” Napoleon trailed off, glancing at one of the skeletons, wearing the suit of the other agent that had gone in with Illya and the detective. “Well, okay, maybe he will know, too.”

“No, not them,” Illya said. “The other ‘them,’ Napoleon.”

He glanced in another direction, and though Napoleon didn’t see anything at first, he froze as he saw some ghosts materialize, looking at Napoleon as though they couldn’t believe their eyes.

“ _You came for him?_ ” one of them asked.

“Yes, that’s right,” Napoleon said.

“ _You did not abandon him to save yourself?_ ” another queried.

“No,” Napoleon returned.

“I told you,” Illya said, looking almost smug. “They were certain you would all leave me here, Napoleon—that’s what happened to them. The spirits are all those who were abandoned in this place.”

“…And the skeletons are the ones who abandoned them,” Napoleon realized.

“Yes,” Illya agreed. “Help me up, Napoleon; I can walk.”

“Are you sure?” Napoleon asked, and he glanced around at the ghosts and skeletons. “And what about them?” He frowned. “I’m warning you—I’m getting him out of here. And I don’t care how many you I have to fight to do it.”

Exactly what offensive strategy he could use against the undead and ghosts, he didn’t know, but he was willing to try to bluff his way out of this one.

But, to his surprise, the ghosts drew back, and the skeletons didn’t move as he helped Illya to the cellar stairs and brought him back upstairs.

“Aside from the fall, you aren’t hurt?” Napoleon asked.

“I’m fine,” Illya assured him. “In an odd way, my fall spared me from any questioning by that agent. …I saw him being dragged down to the skeletons, and… becoming one of them. The spirits explained everything—they had gone missing, and the skeletons were the ones that abandoned them, so, as their punishment, they couldn’t leave here alive. They told me that the rest of you would join the skeletons, as recompense for leaving me to die—and that I would join the spirits when my time came.” He smiled. “But I told them you would come back for me.”

“And here I am—just as I’ve always been. And always will,” Napoleon promised.

Illya nodded, as well, and chuckled.

“Imagine—me, Illya Kuryakin, talking about ghosts and mobile skeletons without a trace of irony…”

“Well, now that you mention it, I could use some coffee to make sure this wasn’t just a bad dream,” Napoleon mused.

“I don’t know why you bother—it never is,” Illya intoned.

They had reached the foyer now, nearly running into the detective, who had, it seemed, been on his way to try to find Napoleon after he hadn’t come back. He stared at Illya for a moment, stunned to see him alive and well.

“How…?” he began.

“How? By being a decent person,” Napoleon said. He sighed, giving the frightened detective a nod. “You tried, though—believe me, compared to those two self-serving fools, that stands out. In doing so, you saved yourself.”

“Huh?”

“We shall explain it later,” Illya said. “Considering that those two agents have been lost, we’ll need your testimony as a witness to corroborate what happened here—because you know they will be asking questions.”

“I’ll do what I can,” the detective promised. He blinked and looked to Napoleon. “Wait, you mean the other guy’s gone, too?”

“There are, ah, more skeletons outside in the swamp,” Napoleon explained. “He not only left Illya to die, but he left all the rest of us, trying to save himself.”

“Oh, lovely,” Illya deadpanned.

“I can assure you, he looks anything but lovely now as just a bunch of glowing bones,” Napoleon insisted.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Illya said.

Napoleon chuckled as he helped Illya out into the open air—it was still a murky swamp, but it was better than the house.

“I think Medical should look you over,” Napoleon said.

Illya grunted, not too thrilled with the idea.

“I’ll lobby for your early discharge,” Napoleon promised. “Relaxing at home is exactly what we need after all this.”

“Sometimes, I think you worry too much,” Illya said. “…But I know I shall be grateful for it.”

The private investigator just glanced at them, incredulously. After everything they’d been through, their camaraderie was enough to keep them going in such high spirits?

…Maybe U.N.C.L.E. had a place for him, as well. But, whether or not they didn’t, these two—Solo and Kuryakin—had taught him a valuable lesson—

Sometimes, the life you save can be someone cherished, in addition to your own.


End file.
